


Weak Boy

by quitequiet



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Illnesses, M/M, Multi, Shyness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:35:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quitequiet/pseuds/quitequiet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Isaac had accepted the bite he had been under the impression that all of his problems would be fixed and/or forgotten. This included, but was not limited to: bruises, scratches, shyness, his lack of family, his lack of friends, and, oh, how susceptible to sickness he was. It was a stupid impression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One: Some children just aren't as strong

When Isaac had accepted the bite he had been under the impression that all of his problems would be fixed and/or forgotten. This included, but was not limited to: bruises, scratches, shyness, his lack of family, his lack of friends, and, oh, how susceptible to sickness he was. It was a stupid impression.

Isaac’s childhood was full of strep throat, ear infections, stomach flus, and the sniffles nearly every other week. The doctors told the Lahey’s that Isaac, “just has a weak immune system. You’ll have to watch him.”

When his mother questioned the doctor, he simply shrugged, “We don’t know why all of the time. Some children just aren’t as strong.”

He guesses that he knew in the back of his mind that the doctor didn’t mean he was a weak person, but it seemed like the easiest thing to do when the going got tough was to take on that weak-boy persona. In school he was the painfully shy and awkward, pale and thin, bruised and sick boy that he had somehow convinced himself was who he was supposed to be.

He was surprisingly good at being that person, even his father thought so.

Of course, he was better when he still had Camden. Camden brought out the best parts of him: the playfulness, the laughter, even the competitive side of Isaac. 

Together they would play games and read books and do their homework side by side at the kitchen table. They would eat snacks and watch movies, drive around when Camden got his license, go to the comic book store when they had spare change from their allowance, and most importantly they would smile and laugh together.

He should’ve known that the only good part of his life would be taken away. He was, after all, just a weak-boy.

When his father received the letter that Camden had died, “honourably for his country, fighting alongside his comrades in a battle that will soon be over thanks to your son,” Isaac hardly even cried. Sure, after he read the letter detailing the sympathy from the army he ran up to his room, shut the door quietly, and landed face first onto his bed with tears already tumbling from his eyes. But that was just one time.

He didn’t even cry at the funeral, not even when his dad was given the folded American flag. Not even when they went back home and his dad stomped upstairs, the flag clutched in his arms, and left Isaac to sudden silence in the once bustling house. Not even when, after almost two hours of silence, he called out Camden’s name to ask him what movie he wanted to watch.

This was all simply because he knew that he was just the sick little weak-boy that his doctor had described him as nine years ago, and what sick little weak-boy was happy? Well, none of them were. 

The bruises and scratches went hand in hand, his father finally losing his mind after losing his wife and son. Isaac could understand. He knew that he looked like his mother and his brother. And he knew that sometimes, when his father was throwing plates and glasses at him, or dragging him down into the basement, that he would call him Camden or Ruth. 

He wasn’t punishing Isaac; he was punishing Ruth for dying all of those years ago, and Camden for enlisting in the army. Isaac was just… there. He was nothing more than a reminder of what was gone, and Isaac would take responsibility for it. It was the least he could do.

Isaac knew that people were afraid of him at school. It was kind of obvious actually: he had bruises everywhere as if he was constantly in fights, he dug graves at nighttime, he hardly ever spoke, and he almost never ate. Kids at school were afraid of him and he didn’t really blame them. 

When Camden was alive he would encourage him to make friends, to talk to at least two people that day. Sometimes Isaac really would and sometimes he would lie and say that he did. Either way, Camden would always smile at him and tell him that he would, “have a ton of friends in no time! They’ll see who you really are soon, I promise.”

That was another thing that he hated, promises. 

Except… he didn’t really have a reason to hate them. He just felt that too many people gave away empty promises. Isaac never promised anything.

But anyway, Isaac had come to the conclusion that he was just never supposed to be happy and there was nothing he could do about it. In hindsight, it should’ve been plainly obvious and painfully just-around-the-bend that the bite would not fix everything. Really, though, it would have been just too perfect if the bite had helped.

He was still a sick little weak boy, and he was getting sicker.


	2. Two: There's no reason for this

Isaac woke with a loud gasp and a heavy feeling in his chest. His eyes shot open, he knew they were honey coloured, as he started to panic: there wasn’t any air getting to his lungs. His fingers immediately came up to his throat, he could feel his claws poking out of his fingers, as he grasped it and tried to sit up.

His eyes started to water and his chest heaved as he tried to bring in a breath. He could feel another pair of hands yank his body up into a sitting position and something hard and solid pressed against his back. Something pulled his hands away from his throat and thrust a hard piece of plastic in front of his face and into his mouth.

“Breathe in Isaac, try to breathe in,” a rough voice whispered in his ear as the aerosol was released.

His vision was starting to become fuzzy and he closed his eyes tightly as his head started to ache but he tried to gasp (for Derek, because Derek wanted him to). His eyes flew open, the honey-gold colour gone from his eyes and the soft blue fading back. The aerosol reached into his throat and touched his lungs, forcing the air through and allowing Isaac to get his breath back.

He took in another heaping of air, his lungs burning with the new oxygen as his body relaxed into the body behind him, Derek’s body. His head tilted back into Derek’s shoulder as Derek dropped the inhaler beside them and pulled Isaac in close. 

Isaac shuddered and his eyes started to close, the feeling of his Alpha holding him bringing a sense of calm to his panicked state.

“This shouldn’t be happening,” Derek muttered, his hand sweeping over the curls that were now matted to Isaac’s forehead, “There’s no reason for this.”

Derek moved one hand to Isaac’s chest, needing to feel the up and down movement, needing to feel the air entering and exiting Isaac’s body.

This was the third time this week.

\---

A hand lightly shook his shoulder until he opened his eyes only to stare into the heterochromic eyes of Derek, “I let you sleep a bit but I’m taking you to school for the afternoon. Get dressed.”

Isaac nodded while blinking the sleep out of his eyes and threw back the covers. He hung his feet over the side and hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees and the heels of his palms digging into his eyes.

Isaac’s knees cracked as he stood up, his feet scrunching up on the cold wood paneling in his room, and a quiet crack forced his attention to the floor where the blue inhaler was now lying.

Chewing on his lip he walked past the inhaler and into the washroom to get ready. Him and Derek never talked about it.

\---

“Do you want me to stop and pick something up to eat?”

Isaac looked over at Derek clad in his leather jacket and dark jeans, his left hand resting on the steering wheel and his eyes switching between looking at the road and looking at Isaac, “No, I’m fine.”

Derek’s mouth squished into a thin line, his eyes passing a glance at the thin boy beside him, “You should eat something.”

Isaac rolled his eyes, “I’m fine. I’m not hungry.”

The drive to the school wasn’t long; Derek and Isaac only lived about ten minute away in a quaint two-bedroom apartment. It was kind of funny actually; Derek hadn’t really asked Isaac to move in, one day he just brought him to the apartment, showed him the room where all of his stuff was already set up, and had said goodnight. It was nice though, finally having someone who didn’t mind that he was there.

Isaac was quiet enough, Derek would be the first one to tell you that. The boy would come home from school and sit in the small living room on the black-leather couch while he did his homework and Derek worked in his office. They would eat dinner together (sometimes Derek would cook and sometimes they would order in), and then both make their way to bed.

He never heard a peep out of the boy, that is, until the middle of the night when the boy would gasp for breath. As far as he could tell it wasn’t a result of nightmares or bad dreams or even good dreams. He just couldn’t breathe sometimes.

The car pulled up to the school and Derek parked, turning to his right to look at the curly haired boy as he grabbed his backpack and opened the car door.

“Call me when you’re finished and I’ll come and get you,” Derek muttered, his eyes traveling over the boy.

Isaac made a face, a face that Derek could only describe as partially confused and partially surprised, “I can walk, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Just call me, okay?”

Isaac nodded, swallowing quickly and pulling his backpack over his shoulder, “Okay.”

Isaac shuffled to the front doors, waiting for the sound of Derek’s car to start up again, but it didn’t. He kept walking until he was just inside the doors before turning around to look outside. He could barely see Derek as he rested his head against the steering wheel before peeling back onto the street.

Isaac just shook his head, giving a small nod to Scott as he walked by him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how many chapters this will end up being but I definitely have a good idea of what's going to happen. 
> 
> Let me know how you're liking it so far!


	3. Three: I'm not a child

Derek and Isaac sat at a both in a small diner near their apartment, both silent. Isaac was just staring at Derek as Derek stared at the small menu. He already knew what he wanted.

The diner was quiet, after all it was only just after school, not dinner time or lunchtime, but both Derek and Isaac liked that better; too much noise was a hassle and they usually ended up with a headache. It looked like there was only one person working, an older woman with white hair and a kind face. She was sitting at another table with a crossword puzzle and a cup of coffee, waiting for either Derek or Isaac to call her over.

“What are you getting?” Derek asked, bringing Isaac’s attention back.

Isaac stretched out his arm and pointed to the menu, “Chicken noodle soup.”

Derek just looked at him, “That’s all you’re having? You haven’t eaten anything all day.”

Isaac just shrugged, pulling his arms back to in front of his chest, his hands folded and placed on the table. He chewed his lip as he started to tap his foot with boredom. Why did Derek want to come here?

“You boys know what you want?” The older woman asked, a pad of paper and a pencil in her hands.

Derek nodded, “A reuben sandwich with fries, and chicken noodle soup for him.”

The woman’s eyebrows raised under her bangs as Derek ordered from him, but she wrote it down, took the menu, and walked over to the kitchen.

“I’m not a child you know, I can order for myself,” Isaac said quietly, his eyes looking down at the table.

It must have been an old table, wooden with marks and nicks all over it, the colour of the wood looking old and worn. He ran his fingers softly over the four small nicks in front of him, feeling the grooves that someone had left with a knife, probably.

Derek didn’t say anything.

The longer they sat there the more awkward it got, neither of them saying anything, just staring off into space. Isaac’s brain was becoming fixated on certain points in the diner: the one blue tile on the floor, the chair with only one arm, even the clock that didn’t seem to be working. All things that were broken but still being kept.

“I talked to Deaton today.”

Isaac looked up at Derek, schooling his features and nodding.

“I told him about how you…” Derek trailed off, his hand moving in Isaac’s general direction in front of him.

“How it’s like I’m getting sick?” Isaac asked, eyebrows lifted and voice quiet.

Derek’s eyes looked down at the table as he nodded, his fingers curling into lightly towards his palms as his shoulders sagged a little. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but he didn’t look good.

“I told him about how you hardly eat, and the inhaler, and the coughing, and everything that’s been happening. He says he thinks he knows what’s wrong but you’re going to have to go see him,” Derek explained, his eyes scrunching up the slightest bit, a frown falling into place.

Isaac licked around his teeth, his thumb digging into one of the grooves on the table, and he cleared his throat, “Okay. When?”

The woman came back with a large plate first, placing it down in front of Derek along with a ketchup bottle and some napkins, before turning around to grab the soup, placing that in front of Isaac as well as a spoon.

“Anything else?” She asked, his red-painted fingernail tapping on her waist.

“No thank you,” Derek ground out, flashing her a fake smile, waiting for her to leave.

“He said this weekend. Wants me to keep an eye on you first, see if you have any more, y’know, ‘episodes’ he said,” Derek explained, his fingers coming up as quotes around the word ‘episodes.’

Isaac nodded and lifted up his spoon, dipping it into the steaming soup and lightly blowing the spoonful he picked up. He could see the small pieces of chicken as well as what looked like a sliced piece of carrot. The broth was yellowed with small bubbles from the oil forming in the bowl. He quickly chased the spoon into his mouth, soup warm and tasty on his tongue.

He could feel Derek’s eyes on him.

Derek cleared his throat, picking up one of the halves of his sandwich and biting into it. He chewed quietly, even though the bite was huge, swallowing it in no time and picking up a fry with his other hand.

“So how was school?” He asked, his voice wavering with the question.

Isaac snorted, some of the soup falling off his spoon and back into the bowl. He looked up at Derek with the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile, “I’m not a child Derek, you don’t have to ask me that.”

He could see Derek rolling his eyes and placing another fry into his mouth, “Fine. We won’t talk.”

“Okay.”

Isaac quietly ate his soup as Derek wolfed down his sandwich, picking up fries in between bites. The woman kept looking over at them, a confused expression on her face, but no one bothered them and they were able to finish their food in a quick fifteen minutes.

Derek wiped his mouth with a napkin then crumpled it up and placed it on his plate as Isaac licked his spoon clean. It made a small clang as it made contact with the bowl and Derek quickly looked up at him, sighing.

“I’m just worried,” he said roughly, voice low and eyes down at the table.

This time Isaac actually bit out a laugh, “I’m not a child Derek, you don’t have to worry about me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the most interesting but you have to get to the interesting bits somehow, yeah?


	4. Four: Breath in

Erica rolled her eyes as she walked into Derek and Isaac’s apartment, slipping her shoes off and hanging her jacket on the peg by the door. She could see Isaac sitting on the leather couch, curled up in the corner with his knees pulled up and a bowl of what smelled like macaroni and cheese up near his chin.

“Where’s Derek?” She asked, her socked feet sliding on the hardwood floor as she came to a stop next to the couch.

Isaac just shrugged, his attention focused on the television as his hands cradled the warm bowl. A few textbooks and notebooks were on the coffee table with a pen and a pencil beside them, but other than that there was nothing in the room that would suggest that Isaac even lived there.

Actually, there was nothing in the room that would suggest Derek lived there.

Erica sat down close to Isaac, cuddling in close to his side and stealing his fork, spearing a few pieces of the macaroni and sliding it into her mouth. Isaac let her. Isaac would let her do anything that made her happy.

“Is this homemade?” She asked, licking her lips as the cheesy mess slid down her throat.

Isaac nodded, “Yeah, there’s more in the kitchen if you want.”

She immediately bounced up, sliding through the living room to the tiled kitchen floor where a hot steaming pot of macaroni sat, the heat visible and inviting. Erica grabbed a bowl and a fork, piling plenty of macaroni into her bowl. She turned around as she heard footsteps behind her and smiled prettily at her Alpha.

“Hey Derek,” she grinned, her eyes twinkling in the artificial light. 

She slyly winked at him as she slid the fork into her mouth, dragging a few pieces of the macaroni with it. Derek just rolled his eyes and moved past her, picking up another bowl and take the rest of the macaroni.

“What if Isaac wanted some more?” Erica questioned, tilting her head to the right and widening her eyes.

Derek stilled, his mouth becoming a tense line that mimicked his shoulders. 

“Don’t listen to her Derek, you can have the rest. I left it for you,” Isaac said softly from the living room.

Derek immediately loosened his shoulders and went back to piling the macaroni into the bowl and headed over to the fridge, pulling out a beer. He grabbed a bottle of water and after a quick look at Erica he also grabbed a can of Sprite.

“Are you going to stay in the kitchen and make faces or are you going to join us in the living room?” Derek asked, a slight sarcastic edge to his voice that was a fairly new development.

Erica let out a fairly undignified snort before sliding back into the living room and squeezing herself back on to Isaac’s side. She leaned her head on his shoulder and slowly began to eat her macaroni.

Derek hesitated as he walked into the room, standing between the couch and La-Z-Boy armchair that he usually sat in. Erica could feel Isaac move his head just slightly to look up at Derek and chew lightly on his lip.

Isaac’s eyes were hopeful that his Alpha would choose the couch.

As Erica turned to look at Derek a frown immediately flitted across his face. He placed the bowl and the drinks onto the coffee table and walked over to stand in front of Isaac, “Why aren’t you eating?”

Isaac shrugged, and pushed his fork a little harder into the small pieces of macaroni, “Not really hungry.”

“Isaac you haven’t eaten a proper meal this whole week,” Derek growled out, his hands twitching beside his hips.

Erica moved over slightly to let Isaac and Derek have some space. The last time she had gotten in the middle, when Derek had been yelling at Isaac and the younger boy had looked completely defeated, she had been banned from the small apartment for a week.

“I can’t Derek.”

“What do you mean you can’t? Just eat, finish the bowl,” Derek roughly said, leaning down until his face was almost level with Isaac’s.

Isaac let out a small whine at his Alpha’s distress and tried his hide his face into his knees, which were still pressed to his chest, but Derek reached forward and grasped Isaac’s chin in his large palm.

“I’m sick of this Isaac, stop being a brat. You’re going to eat right now or you’re leaving this house.”

Isaac’s whole body was instantly wracked with sobs as a deep, hurt whine escaped his lips. Tears started to form in his eyes as his body began to shake, “Derek I can’t, I can’t eat. It’s like… it’s like there’s nowhere for it to go, I can’t do it! Please don’t make me do it, please Derek!”

Derek’s eyes flashed red as his beta begged. He could feel his claws coming out, lightly poking into Isaac’s chin as he still grasped the boy’s face. His could feel his teeth puncturing through the soft skin of his gums as his anger started to get the best of him.

“Derek stop, you need to calm down,” Erica whispered, hesitantly laying a hand on her Alpha’s shoulder.

Derek shook her off.

“You want to know what Deaton told me? Do you want to know what he said? He said you’re dying.” Derek ground out, his red eyes focused on the now honey colour flickering in Isaac’s eyes.

Abruptly, Isaac let out a startled cry and dropped the bowl of macaroni. The bowl shattered on the hardwood floor and pieces of white porcelain mixed with orange macaroni spread across the floor.

Isaac grasped his chest as he doubled over, trying to find some oxygen and coax it into his lungs.

Derek immediately grounded himself, his claws and teeth retracting as he stood up quickly, quicker than a human, and raced into Isaac’s bedroom where the inhaler was placed on the dresser.

“Derek what’s going on?” He could hear Erica ask, panicking as she tried to get Isaac to sit up straight, tried to elongate his chest and allow him to breathe.

Derek appeared in less than a second, grasping Isaac’s face and pushing the tip of the inhaler into his mouth, “Breath in Isaac.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a little bit longer for this update, I was a bit busy with some essays for class but here it is.
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys it!


	5. Five: My anchor changed

“So what do we do?”

Deaton heaved a heavy sigh and he twisted his fingers in his lap. Isaac was lying in his bed, his head propped up by two fluffy pillows and his covers pulled over his body all the way up to his chin. Derek was sitting beside his head, a hand placed on Isaac’s arm.

“Well, I’m not sure yet. I’ve never seen anything like this before and I’m going to have to do a bit of research,” Deaton explained, his mouth forming into a semi-frown.

Isaac chewed on his bottom lip, “But… I thought the bite was either supposed to kill you or turn you, not make you sick.”

Derek’s fingers tightened, pressing white spots into his soft, pink skin.

“Nothing about the supernatural is set in stone, Isaac,” Deaton said softly, “Just get some rest and take it easy. Don’t do anything stressful and keep your inhaler with you at all times.”

Isaac nodded and looked over at his Alpha who hadn’t said a word since Deaton walked in the door. Deaton gave one final nod and stood up slowly – Isaac could hear his knees cracking – before giving a wave to Derek and letting himself out.

Isaac and Derek stayed quiet until they heard the front door open and shut, signaling that Deaton had left the apartment. Isaac let out a small groan and rubbed the heel of his palm over his eyes. He could feel his head clouding with emotion and tears nearing the surface of his eyes.

He could feel Derek shifting as he kept his eyes closed. Two soft “thunks” hit the ground before he could feel Derek stretching out along his side and resting an arm over his chest. 

“What are you doing?” 

Isaac waited for an answer, but he didn’t get one. Derek was silent, only his breath touching Isaac’s cheek and the small movement of his fingers across his chest.

Tears began to drip silently out of Isaac’s eyes, big, fat, clear drops of liquid sliding down his chin, down his neck, to the pillow behind his head. His mouth became dry and sticky as he began to hiccup and his body became wracked with sobs. 

Derek’s fingers tightened on his side, pulling him close.

“What if I die Derek?”

Derek, once again, didn’t answer.

Isaac licked his lips and closed his eyes, small shudders going through his body and wetness still leaking from his closed eyelids. The sobs slowly stopped, his face slowly dried from the sticky trails of tears, and his mind finally cleared of emotion.

He could feel sleep coming, could see the dark, soft blanket of unconsciousness weave through his mind, shutting down the different areas. He could feel the sleep, but he could still hear Derek when he whispered, “I won’t let you.”

\--

Derek stuck close to Isaac’s side in the coming weeks. He dropped him off at school, he picked him up, he made him dinner (and made sure he ate), and he even put him to bed. On nights where Isaac couldn’t stop coughing, would just keep letting out harsh bursts of air even when given water or anything to lubricate his throat, Derek would even stay with him through the night.

Isaac was getting smaller; Derek could feel it when he wrapped his strong arms around Isaac’s thin chest. Each bone of his ribs protruded, the skin over them lying taught, pulled, stretched, and strained over his torso.

Deaton still hadn’t found anything concrete. No one had gone through this before after being bitten and perfectly fine for months, before all of a sudden catching what seemed like a werewolf flu.

Deaton tried to give him herbs, tried to give him different medicines to counteract that werewolf gene that was acting like a virus or an infection. Deaton compared it to something like AIDS, where it wrapped around his immune system and weakened him to a state of an unmoving pile of bones that just got worse and worse unless it was controlled.

They just had to find out how to control it.

“Wanna watch TV?” Derek asked, fixing his pillow that was under his back so that it was closer to his neck.

Isaac shrugged, cuddling into the three thick blankets that had been placed on his bed. He was getting cold easily, shivering in the middle of the night when he wasn’t coughing up a storm or gasping for breath.

Derek turned on the television, flicking through the channels until he got to a baseball game.

In the past two weeks Isaac had learned a lot about Derek. He loved baseball for one, he watched it whenever possible and seemed truly invested in the outcome, always shaking his leg or chewing on his short fingernails, his lip also becoming a victim.

He also always wore a t-shirt to bed, usually the same one too. It was a plain grey shirt with a hole under the left armpit and a stain of something purple near his bellybutton. For all of the tanktops he wore during the day, he always seemed to cover-up more at night. This included a pair of comfy looking black sweatpants and clean white socks. Yes, Derek was one of those people. He wore socks to bed.

But most importantly, Derek was the most protective person he had ever met. Maybe it was because he was pack, but maybe it was just because of who he was as a person. Maybe, just maybe, Derek had been like that before the fire, always taking care of his younger siblings and watching out for anyone smaller or younger than himself.

Maybe.

“I was thinking today,” Derek started as the game went to a commercial, “about what we could do to try and control it. I ran it by Deaton too and he said it was a good idea, sort of dangerous, but smart.”

Isaac nodded and sniffled; the cold was seeping through his thing sweater and burying itself in his bones. He turned his face to Derek, curling up into the fetal position and staring at him.

“When a wolf is sick they usually have… someone to take care of them, someone to anchor them. You said your anchor is your father and your father is dead so he can’t take care of you.

“I think, maybe, that we need to find you a new anchor. Someone who is here, someone you can ground yourself in. Maybe because your father isn’t here, you’re fading too.”

Isaac stayed silent.

He could hear Derek lick his lips and look down at him before turning back to the baseball game.

“He’s not my anchor anymore,” Isaac whispered with a raspy voice.

Derek raised an eyebrow, turning his face back to Isaac’s, “Oh.”

Isaac squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, something that Derek confused for a gasp. Derek immediately reached over to the night table and grabbed the blue inhaler. He reached over to Isaac but Isaac pressed his hands against his chest shaking his head, “I’m okay I was just breathing.”

Derek stilled and Isaac could hear his heart thumping to a slower rhythm. He was leaning over him, face close to his own face.

“I was just going to say that my, uh, my anchor it changed… it changed to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy everyone! Comment too!


	6. Six: Like you

“I don’t know what to do Deaton, he said his anchor already changed but he’s not getting better! If anything, he’s getting worse. I’m not losing him Deaton, tell me what to do.”

Isaac ran his sticky pale hand over his mouth and pressed his forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet. His curls were matted to his forehead and his skin was almost translucent. Popped blood vessels surrounded his eyes from the strength of his heaving and his body felt too weak to pick himself up.

“You can’t just say that you don’t know what to do, you have to know. You have to save him, you have to help me, Alan.”

Isaac closed his eyes tightly as he felt the tears start to build up again. This was something he never thought he’d hear, Derek pleading for his life. Derek pleading to save him.

It made sense in some ways, he had lost nearly his entire family and now, after making himself a new family, it looked like he was going to lose more. It was unfair and Isaac wished he could live just so Derek would be all right. It had been years since he had thought of his life as his own, always owing something to someone else and now Derek owned his life. He lived for Derek, to make Derek happy. To give Derek what he so desperately needed.

“God fucking dammit Deaton, just God… fuck.”

Isaac’s lip was nearly chewed raw but he continued to chew it anyways. He could hear Derek throw something and a large crash, probably his cellphone – it would be the third that month – and a few puffs of harsh breathing.

Isaac just kept his head pressed to the toilet bowl as he felt his stomach gurgling even though he hadn’t eaten anything in at least a day. If one were to peak into the toilet they would see liquid and blotches of red, blood that coming up through his esophagus as he heaved and heaved and heaved and heaved.

A warm body pressed against his back and pulled him away from the toilet, cradling his shrinking body to Derek’s solid torso. Derek was gentle with him, never holding too hard even though sometimes his fingers itched to just squeeze him, squeeze him and make sure that he was still alive, still breathing. As it was, his right hand lay over Isaac’s chest feeling both his heart and his lungs move in nearly the same pattern. Both slow.

Derek pressed his lips to the side of Isaac’s temple, keeping there for a long minute, “I’m not giving up, Isaac.”

\--

Isaac eyes the door to his bedroom as he heard multiple footsteps directly outside. He could hear Erica and Derek, both whispering and trying to keep Isaac from hearing. It wasn’t difficult nowadays; his senses definitely weren’t up to par. Not eating or sleeping could do that, he guesses.

Maybe he would’ve ended up like this anyways, regardless of becoming a werewolf. Maybe it was just him, just his weak body. He had always known he was susceptible to sickness, easily hurt, and easily weakened. Maybe fate did exist.

“You can’t catch anything, you’re still a wolf. It seems to just be him, maybe that’s why we can’t heal him,” he heard Derek whisper; they must’ve been closer to the door now, maybe leaning on the handle.

“Have you tried taking his pain?” Erica asked quietly, though not as quiet as Derek.

“Have you guys ever heard of about me, to me?” Isaac asked fairly quietly but loud enough that he knew Derek and Erica would hear.

The two went silent in the hall for a few seconds before the door opened and Erica poked her blonde-haired-head inside the door. She gave Isaac a sheepish smile before sliding in on her socked feet and quickly sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You still look cute you know,” Erica commented, winking at him.

Isaac scoffed, running a hand through his long and messy curls but quickly pulling his back when he realized how bony it was, “Thanks but no thanks Erica.”

Erica moved closer, his thighs against his knee and patted him, “You know you can ask right, I would totally do it. Or Stiles, if you swing that way, you know, in case…”

Derek growled lowly, his fingers twitching by his side from his place beside the door, “Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Shut up Erica, that is not going to be my “dying wish,” Isaac tried to laugh out, “You just want to have sex with me.”

Erica shrugged, neither denying or affirming, and settled against him while running her hand over his leg. Isaac stared at her, the confidence shining from her as he tried to remember the girl that used to be in gym class, the one with long, ratty hair and imperfections. She was almost too perfect now. Slightly unnerving if you asked him, considering he had brought all of his imperfections with him.

“Nothing’s going to happen to Isaac so he’s not going to have a dying wish,” Derek said, his mouth pressed into a hard line that mimicked his current stance.

Erica just threw up her hands and cuddled in closer to Isaac, wrapping her arms – bigger than Isaac’s now – around his chest. “You’re so cold,” she whispered, burying her face in his sticky neck.

Isaac shrugged, “Don’t feel it.”

Derek was still standing in the same spot, his finger still flexing against his thighs, as his eyes seemed far off. He was looking in Isaac’s direction but farther, past Isaac, past the wall behind him.

It took three hours for Derek to get Erica to leave, which she did with a big kiss on the lips, for Isaac not Derek, and a tight squeeze before darting out of the room and out of her Alpha’s clutches.

Isaac was tired but Derek didn’t leave, and Isaac didn’t ask him too. He just sat on the edge of his bed, his ankles crossed and his hands folded in his lap. His light eyes were boring into Isaac’s blue ones. He was so focused.

“I didn’t know that, about you,” he said softly, thoughtfully.

Isaac kept his lips pressed together and didn’t say anything. 

“I guess I never thought that you could, you could… I just guess it never occurred to me. I just wanted to tell you that… if you do, uh, want something like that I can get you whoever you like. Anyone, it doesn’t matter. I’ll do my best to get them for you, convince them. You know anyone in the pack would be willing. Erica, Stiles, Scott, even Boyd I guess. I could… I could find Peter even, if that’s better? Maybe Lydia or Jackson, one of them…”

Isaac just stayed quiet as his Alpha listed off possible people he could, well, have sex with. It was almost like having a conversation with, well, his father. It was embarrassing to start.

“I uh, no that’s OK. I’m fine, thank you,” Isaac said politely.

“Isaac I mean it, if you need something or want to do something. I’m not planning on letting you go but of, I mean if something happens I don’t want you to feel like you missed out on something.”

Isaac nodded and fiddled with the comforter, “I don’t really want any of them.”

Derek nodded, biting his lip, “OK. Who, just… just name someone? Or a type?”

Isaac gulped and took a deep breath, his heart was beating a mile a minute, probably the fastest it had been in months.

“Well, I guess tall, ‘cause I’m tall. And… big, bigger than me. Like strength wise. And, dark hair? Yeah dark hair. Someone… patient and calm, gentle even. If only with me,” he stretched his fingers out in front of him, “Big hands too. Nice fingers, you know, kind of… kind of, well, really… like yours.”

Derek shot a look down at his hands, focusing on his fingers, flexing them out in front of him, “Me-mine? My hands? Like, like mine?”

Isaac nodded, “Yeah, like you. Definitely, yeah. You.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone likes this update! I promise, it's not all doom and gloom.   
> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone, my readers went up by almost 300 after the last chapter, so thank you very much!  
> Comment if you feel like it.


	7. Seven: Just sex, making out sometimes

Isaac lay down on the metal table in Deaton’s office, a few cushions under his bent body. The thin boy curled tightly, his feet barely hanging over the edge of the table, quietly answering Deaton’s questions.

“Are there times where you feel better?”

Isaac thought about it but shrugged, “I don’t think so.”

“Not when you’re around certain people? Alright, are there times when you feel worse?” Deaton asked, scribbling in his notebook.

Isaac thought about it. Being with the pack always made him think he felt better, but he wasn’t sure if he actually did. You know, like, convincing yourself it makes you feel better because that’s what you think. You think you’re better, so you are better.

“Maybe, when I’m with the pack. I still don’t feel… good, but it feels like there’s a weight lifting off my chest. Like it’s easier to breathe and easier to see and to move and feel…” Isaac trailed off.

Deaton gave him a curt nod, scribbling furiously before standing up suddenly. He put his notebook on the counter and turned towards Isaac, “We’re going to do a… test of sorts. Erica and Derek are outside. Erica is going to come in first, for about five minutes, then Derek. Tell me if you feel better, worse, who makes you feel the best. That type of thing, alright?”

Isaac nodded and Deaton hurried out of the room, the door closing silently behind him. Isaac took in a deep breath and let it out shakily, wrapping his skinny arms around himself. 

“Hey you,” Erica said, a smile playing on her lips.

Isaac gave her a weak grin and moved a little bit so she could sit down on the metal table. She took a seat and wrapped her finger around his elbow, tracing the skin with her fingertip.

“You okay?” She asked, her blonde hair falling in front of her face.

Isaac nodded, “Yeah. It’s not so bad. I’m just tired.”

Erica nodded, biting on her bottom lip with her blunt teeth. She stared straight ahead at the wall, still rubbing Isaac’s arm, looking deep in thought. She turned to look at him, moving her other hand to touch his face and turn it towards her own.

“Derek and I are going to do everything in our power to help you Isaac, you have to believe that, OK? But just in case… look, Isaac I’m offering alright? Boyfriend and girlfriend, just sex, making out sometimes, whatever you want until we fix this. Maybe… maybe even after, who knows? I mean, we could work together; we did work together. Remember with Jackson? That was…”

Isaac grabbed her hand, “That was nice, but, not for us. We tried already Erica. It’s OK. Thank you though, really.”

Erica turned back towards the wall, a frown on her face. She huffed and brought up one of her hands to wipe away the few tears that slid from her eyes.

“Don’t cry, please Erica. It’s not worth it,” Isaac said quietly, his voice cracking.

Erica let out a hiccup, a soft sob coming from her throat as she let out a sharp whine. She leaned her head down on Isaac’s chest, her hair falling at his throat and continued to rub her hand down his arm.

“I’m supposed to be helping you, seeing if I make you feel better and instead…” Erica choked out.

“You are helping me. A little bit, but it’s enough. My chest feels just a bit lighter, my lungs a bit more open. Erica you are helping,” Isaac explained, sweeping his shaking hand through her hair.

It was at that moment that Deaton walked in, clipboard in his hand, and began waving Erica out, “Derek’s in next.”

Erica leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Isaac’s cheek and walked out of the small room.

Isaac leaned his head back, feeling the tension fill his bones again; his lungs close up just a tiny bit more. He dragged in a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly until he got his breathing back under control. The door opened and shut in almost the same second, Derek moving impossibly fast as he pulled over Deaton’s chair to sit down next to Isaac.

“Did Erica help?” He asked gruffly.

Isaac nodded, his fingers itching to grab Derek. He didn’t though. He just clenched them into fists and brought them closer to his body. “Yeah, a little bit. Especially when she was touching me,” he whispered.

Derek stared Isaac in the eyes and slowly lifted his hand and pressed it to Isaac’s cheek, cupping the sticky pale skin. His thumb rubbed softly on his cheekbone and Isaac sighed as the pressure once again lifted from his chest. He closed his eyes for a second and then opened them, his lungs open and filling, a warm feeling entering his stomach.

“What did you guys talk about?” Derek asked, keeping his voice to a low whisper.

Isaac shrugged, enjoying the feeling of Derek’s hand on his skin, “She… offered again. I turned her down though.”

Derek nodded and leaned in closer to the thing boy, his breath hitting Isaac lightly, and a hint of mint hitting his nose. Derek was quiet but obviously thinking, his shoulders slightly hunched and his other hand now rubbing circles on Isaac’s wrist.

Derek didn’t say anything else though, just sat on the chair with his ands covering Isaacs, relieving him of some of his discomfort. Deaton walked in then, but Derek kept his hands on Isaac.

“I assume they make it better?” Deaton asked, his notebook already out in front of him.

Isaac nodded shyly, “Yeah, quite a bit.”

Deaton nodded, his hand flying over the paper before he abruptly stopped and called Erica back in, “I need Derek for a minute alright? I need to speak with him privately.”

Derek’s fingers stopped rubbing but he tapped Isaac’s pulse once before standing up and following Deaton out of the room. Erica went to sit on the seat but Isaac stopped her before she could, “Lie with me? I think it takes more body contact for you to help than Derek.”

Erica smiled and quickly flopped on top of Isaac, pressing her lips to his forehead, and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. The two stayed there for almost an hour.

\--

“We have to do what?!”

“Just, hear me out Isaa-“

“No, no you can’t do that! I can’t ask you to do that Derek. It’s not happening, I… I won’t.”

“Isaac I want to, if it’ll save you I will do anything. You should know that, you’re pack!”

“But that’s all I am! Derek, don’t you get it? I’m only pack to you! Just like, like a brother! Not a, a, a… a mate!”

“Isaac this is not up for discussion, it’s going to happen!”

“I can’t let you throw your life away for me. I can’t let you do it Derek.”

“If you don’t, you’ll die.”

“Then let me die.”

Derek stared at Isaac, the boy standing up by himself for the first time in weeks. His face was determined, his hair losing its shine. His skin was sticky, pale, and held a greenish tint. 

"No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait on this! Last week was my final week of classes and this week is exams but I'm almost finished!  
> There's only a few more chapters of this, two maybe three. Comment if you'd like!


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